


you know the king of hearts is always your best bet

by crucibulis



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn with Feelings, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, and Ryder is just along for the ride, dom!reyes, sub!Gil, well really it's like 7k words of feelings and 4k words of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11583789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucibulis/pseuds/crucibulis
Summary: "Ryder tells him about a certain handsome smuggler, who winks instead of answering questions and has a penchant for somehow knowing everybody while simultaneously not having any friends.Gil’s heart pounds through his whole body with knowing before Ryder even speaks his name.'Reyes is here?!'"(I mean honestly. Don't try to convince me that the best pilot on the Nexus and the best engineer on the Nexus didn't ever meet... it happened dammit.)





	you know the king of hearts is always your best bet

“You know,” Scott says by way of announcing himself, shoes scuffing deliberately along the gritty floor of the cargo bay to convey a certain swagger. He looks down at where Gil is half hidden by the Nomad, all long legs and half-bent knees as he lays back on the wheeled creeper and wrestles with something on the undercarriage that is probably Scott’s fault. “Most people would send their boss an email about working a forty-two hour shift as a labor law complaint.”

“Labor laws,” Gil scoffs, voice muffled. “Do we have those in Heleus?”

Scott still crosses his arms even though he knows Gil can’t see it or the concerned look on his face. Maybe he’ll manage to translate it into his voice. “If I say yes, will you go to bed?”

“Eh,” Gil replies amidst the clinking of metal. “I'll sleep when I'm tired.”

Well, this isn’t going anywhere. Ryder considers the stubborn man beneath him for a moment, his well-fitting “off duty” trousers and his shirt rucked up to show just a bit of skin and okay, that sight is  entirely - _entirely_ unfair but it gives Scott a pretty great idea.

If you can’t run from it, use it, right?

He grabs onto Gil’s feet and pulls, hard. “Whoa -- hey!” Gil complains as he rolls out from under the Nomad and drops whatever he was holding with a loud clank.

Scott doesn’t give him any time to react before he’s sinking down on his knees, straddling Gil and settling just above his waist. The top half of the man is no less distracting, and Scott forgets why he’s put himself in this predicament for a moment, taking in Gil’s face smudged with grease and all the bronze skin shown off by his tank-top. Biceps. Collarbone. His hair is slightly mussed up, too, like it might if he were --

“Uh, hello…” Gil says, very interested but just a little cautious, and it brings Scott back on task.

“Okay. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”

“Ooo he's using his Pathfinder voice now,” Gil says to no one in particular. “And what exactly does _that_ mean, oh Finder of Paths?” he taunts with a toothy grin.

“It means,” Scott leans in, looming so Gil’s face is cast in shadow. “You can choose to cooperate, or you can choose not to cooperate.”

Gil does something very distracting and very telling with his lips, pressing them together as if to restrain something within him. “And if I choose not to?” he says quietly, in that dead serious, daring tone that Scott got a taste of when they first met, and the sound licks warm sparks up his spine.

“I might have to resort to extreme measures.”

“Such as?”

“I might have to _trick_ you into going to your bed, by seducing you.” It’s only partially a joke. They’ve been dancing around this for a while now, flirting and casting looks at each other from across the cargo bay and trading jabs over the hood of the Nomad, but this is the most that Scott has ever done about it. Gil doesn’t really seem to mind.

“That _would_ _be extreme_ ,” Gil pretends to agree, as if to protest being thrown into the proverbial briar patch. Then he considers, biting his lip. God that’s distracting. Even odds on whether he’s doing it on purpose. “Joke’s on you though, because I don't have a bed.”

“What?!” Scott exclaims, his voice echoing through the expansive space around them. “What do you mean you _don't have a bed?_ Where do you sleep?!”

Gil just looks up at him, too amused for someone who’s just admitted to being the ship’s crew equivalent of _homeless_. “I think we've established that I don't.”

“Okay,” Scott starts again, gathering his thoughts around this new development. “New, super, mega-extreme deluxe plan B, I _find_ you a bed and _tie_ you to it.”

Gil’s response isn’t exactly unwelcoming, brows raising as if he’s subtly impressed. “Well you _did say_ you were going to seduce me.”

Scott reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. This is what he gets for trying to fix this with flirting. “No, Gil, I'm not going to tie you up in a sexy way, I'm going to tie you up in a ‘you can't escape and will be forced to take a nap’ kind of way.”

“Oh,” Gil says. Scott is halfway through his next sentence before he pegs the look on Gil’s face as… _disappointed_.

“You do realize that sleep deprivation can -- Wait -- you're into that kind of thing?” he inquires without judgement. He’s just curious… just wants to know, you know, _for science,_ as Lexi would say.

“Well -- I mean, I might be?” Gil stammers, grey eyes casting around for something to look at beside the man straddling him. “I mean -- we might as well try it, right? While you've got me there?”

Scott can feel the mischievous grin forming on his face before he can do anything about it.  He leans in with intent, and Gil’s eyes begin to flutter shut as they look between Scott’s eyes and his lips as he murmurs words that sound darker than their meaning. “You know how I know you're tired?”

“How?” Gil rasps like his throat has gone dry with want, and then flinches when he realizes he didn’t deny it. Scott only grins wider, almost predatory now, and he leans down even more, parting his lips as if to kiss him. But as tempting as it is, at the moment it’s much more satisfying to bluff and pull away.

“Your poker face is _shit_ right now,” he laughs, and Gil’s eyes open wide, and his jaw drops.

“You wanker,” he growls through a smile and he sends the cackling Pathfinder off-balance with a playful shove.

 

* * *

 

They are very talkative in bed. Before, during, after, and Gil loves it; he’s so used to annoying his bedmates with how chatty he is, but Ryder just goes with it, picking up threads of conversation between muttered swears and half-moaned sighs.

They are very _good_ in bed, too: sex in all its iterations. Fucking, getting fucked, just getting each other off with hands and mouths, or just plain rutting against each other in a desperate moment after a long day of staring death in the face. And even though he knows better, Gil feels almost like Ryder’s equal in those moments, the King of the Riff Raff and the King of the Stars.

Still, it’s probably a good thing that they are in the ‘after’ portion of the night’s activities when Ryder begins to tell him about a certain handsome smuggler, who winks instead of answering questions and has a penchant for somehow knowing everybody while simultaneously not having any friends.

Gil’s heart pounds through his whole body with _knowing_ before Ryder even speaks his name.

“Reyes is _here?!”_ He shoots up straight in the bed, looking back at Ryder with a wild look that he just can’t help, because _Reyes_. Alive. Here.

“Um,” Ryder tries, clearly taken aback by the reaction and trying to find his bearings again. “Yeah… I take it you know him?”

Gil looks forward into the darkness of the Pathfinder's room, resting his forearms on his knees where they’re still covered by the sheets. “From back on the Nexus, before everything went to shit. He was a pilot, I was an engineer…” he rattles off in a flat, bored tone, as if that explains everything.

“Ah, so it was kind of like you and Kallo,” Ryder chuckles in premature relief, and Gil winces.

“At... first…”

“And then what?”

“We... worked it out...” Gil answers in a slightly suggestive drawl.

He can see Ryder nodding in the corner of his eye as he puts it together. Damn him for having a supercomputer in his head so he doesn’t miss _anything, ever._ “So you two were sleeping together.”

“Yeah…”

Another silence hangs awkwardly in the air before Ryder speaks again. “Was it serious?” he asks, suddenly sounding small and far away.

“I -- What Rey and I had --”

A snort. “He lets you call him _Rey?”_

“He didn't _let_ me do anything,” Gil assures him with a roll of his eyes.

Ryder chuckles uncomfortably and puts up his hands as if to surrender. “Okay then.”

Gil takes a deep breath. Exhales. Ugh, honesty is the _worst,_ but Ryder deserves it. Well, not the worst, but the best… the best, most genuine version of himself that Gil can offer. “What we had was a good thing. I'm not gonna lie, it was a _really_ good thing. But I wouldn't call it serious. Not serious enough for me to go with him. Although to be fair, that had something to do with where he was going, which was fuck knew where. One spontaneous plunge into the great unknown was enough for me, thanks.”

“He asked you to?”

“More like, he hinted very strongly that if I wanted to come along, I could,” Gil explains. “But I thought going out there was suicide. I thought he was _dead_ , Ryder. I never heard from the bastard again.”

Another long moment of silence and it’s like Gil is grieving all over again. Reyes _chose_ to disappear, and that’s an entirely different and no less painful form of loss. 

“Hmm.” Ryder can say so much without uttering a word. Understanding. Sympathy. “I can take you to see him. If you’d like. Before we head out to find the Archon.”

“Yeah -- I…” Gil’s answer gets caught in his throat. “I probably should. Just to, you know.”

“To get some closure,” Ryder offers, his hand warm and soft and kind over the tension in Gil’s back.

“Yeah. That,” Gil agrees, and then, for once, neither of them speak for a long while.

 

* * *

 

“I feel a sequel to my Heleus poem coming on,” Scott hears Gil say behind him, as the doors to Tartarus slide open, and the sounds of the club teeming with people flood out into the waning light. The obnoxious but inescapable beat pulses louder against his ribs with every step.

“Oh _god_ ,” Scott groans, but not without affection.

“Tartarus,” Gil improvises as they make their way further in, weaving through dancers and servers and customers in the near-darkness. “Are you… tarting us? With your tartar sauce?”

“I _hate_ that that made sense to me,” Scott replies, not really concerned with whether Gil has heard him or can see the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile of their own accord.

“Wow this is a classy place,” Gil remarks dryly over the noise. “They do let them _out_ of those cages, right?”

“Yeah, apparently those are just there for the customers’ protection.” Scott doesn’t wait for Gil to catch the absurdity of what he said before he gestures up the stairs.  “His room is up there.”

“Pffft. Figures.”

Apparently, Reyes’s choice of abode makes some kind of sense to Gil, which makes one of them. Scott is still trying to make heads or tails of why someone with a discerning palate for priceless bottles of alcohol would keep a residence in the most distasteful bar in Kadara Port.

But Gil doesn’t even seem phased, and that makes something twist, yearning and uncomfortable in Scott’s gut. As much time as Scott has spent with Reyes since they landed on Kadara, the man is still mostly a mystery to him. And now, there’s a whole side of Gil that’s a mystery, too.

Then, they’re standing at the door to the private room. Scott brings up the request for entry on his omnitool, but doesn’t submit it quite yet. “You ready to see what’s behind door number one?” he jokes, looking over at Gil.

“Sure,” Gil says, somewhat absently. He doesn’t meet Scott’s eyes, opting instead to stare down the panel of steel in front of his face. There’s a set determination in his jaw, but the quiver in his voice says he’s more than a little freaked out. Scott exhales, figuring both of them are as ready as they’ll ever be, and punches the button with a dramatic finality.

After only a moment, the door hisses open. Reyes is already standing, greeting the Pathfinder with a welcoming smile, and it takes him a moment to register that the person trailing behind isn’t one of his usual fighters.

“Ryder! To what do I owe the --”

The door closes behind them, amplifying the silence that accompanies the gobsmacked look on Reyes’s face. For several long seconds, nobody moves. Scott’s eyes scan back and forth between the two men, trying to discern anything from their frozen features.

“Hey, Rey,” Gil says bashfully, shifting a little on his feet.

Reyes suddenly remembers he has a drink in his hand and he -- with noticeable effort -- looks to find the table right next to him and safely put the bottle down. Scott is pretty sure that his lack of coordination isn’t due to being drunk. _“Gil,”_ he replies, barely more than a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, came to see you!” Gil is trying to sound cheerful, but there's a tremor of nerves underneath. He leans forward on his toes, then rocks back on his heels, like he wanted to go to Reyes but then remembered Scott is in the room, and Scott is suddenly very certain that coming here was an awful idea. “Assigned to the _Tempest_ now; heard you were, you know, alive and stuff. Imagine my shock,” Gil says, going for a light, playful tone but it’s laced with bitterness.

“You underestimate me, as usual,” Reyes says with a darker version of his trademark roguish smirk, and at that, Scott’s brows shoot up fast enough for the sharp-eyed pilot to notice. Reyes breaks the intense gaze he has on Gil and, looking between the two crewmates, seems to recover his demeanor. “Well come sit! I’m woefully unprepared for such an occasion, but I can have them bring us drinks.”

“That’s alright, we can’t stay long,” Gil says quickly, sneaking an almost apologetic look at Scott as the two of them seat themselves across from Reyes.

“I see,” Reyes frowns. Scott can see him studying the two of them, wheels turning in his mind, trying to read the situation on the fly. Perhaps wondering what Scott knows. Wondering what _Gil_ knows, for that matter. Scott has walked in here with himself and two others armed to the teeth, but Reyes has never looked so much like he’s expecting to be blindsided as he does right now. But seeming assured by his cursory analysis, he carefully leans back and once again sets his sights on Gil. “How are you sleeping?”

Gil splutters, then laughs. “Cut right to the chase, eh?”

Reyes looks over and catches Scott cutting his eyes to the side, bracing himself against a familiar pang of concern. How long has this issue with Gil not sleeping been going on exactly? His thing with Reyes on the Nexus was… over a year ago. “From the look on Ryder’s face, not well.”

“Try ‘not at all,’” Scott gripes, feeling a bit vindicated. At least he has a formidable ally in this fight now. “I mean, I know it’s an exaggeration, but according to him, he never sleeps.”

Reyes gets that wicked grin on his face again. “Oh, he does… you just have to know how to --”

Gil cuts him off by pointedly clearing his throat. “Uh, Ryder and I are… sort of together now,” he says with a significant look at his ex… whatever.

“Ah.” Reyes’s face falls an almost imperceptible amount. The chuckle he makes under his breath is turned inward, self-deprecating. “Yes, of course. I should have seen that coming.”

Gil and Scott react with a matching set of incredulous expressions. “Why’s that?” Gil scoffs.

A shrug. “Both of us always did have impeccable taste in men,” Reyes answers mysteriously, but then he and Gil both try and fail not smile, snickering at some private joke. Scott watches as Gil bites his lip, giving Reyes a bright look _full_ of meaning, and something inside Scott breaks, and he knows he needs to get out before he breaks something.

He can’t take any more of this. “If you two want some time, I can…. wait outside,” he says, standing.

Gil whips his head around, eyes wide. “Oh, Ryder -- you don’t have to --”

“It’s fine, really.” It’s a struggle to keep the anger out of his voice, though he’s not even sure who he’s angry at. Himself? What was he _thinking_ bringing his boyfriend to meet his long lost lover who just happens to be Reyes frickin’ Vidal? “Clearly you two have a lot to talk about.”

“A-Alright?” Gil replies, still looking uncertain. “I’ll come find you.”

Scott rushes out, feeling two pairs of eyes on him as he heads into the club, and wondering bitterly how happy they are to see him go.

 

* * *

 

They both watch Ryder leave, and then Reyes reaches for his drink, downing what remains in the bottle just because he needs something to do in the awkward stillness that follows. Ryder took most of the tension in the room with him but some of it still lingers, as he has yet to get a read on why Gil is really here. How else is the gravitational alignment of his life going to be turned sideways today?

 _“Well,”_ he says finally, hoping to convey a lot with just that one word.

“Yeah,” Gil concurs, with a sigh of relief. “I thought if he came with me, it would be easier.”

Reyes’s brow furrows, trying to discern Gil’s meaning. “For you?”

Gil shakes his head insistently, and he leans forward, finally seeming a little more at ease. “For him. I mean -- I didn’t come here to get back together with you, I just wanted to see you,” he says with a shrug, then adds as an afterthought, “Again.”

Considering this with a careful nod, Reyes side-eyes him, attempting to read more into it than what Gil wants to say. Just like with old times, Gil wants to neatly resolve in moments what some people would beat their heads against for days. But Reyes likes to take things that take minutes, and stretch them into long, indulgent hours.

So Reyes steals some time before he bothers responding, a minute or so of mostly companionable silence, for _him_ to see _Gil_. He looks good, effortlessly good as always - although a bit thinner and more worn around the edges. His graphite-grey eyes are fixed on the table in front of them, but there’s something about his posture that tells Reyes he’s steeling himself for something that’s staring back at him from the middle distance.

Or maybe something really deceptively enormous in the far distance. “Why do I get the feeling you mean ‘one last time?’”

Gil opens his mouth to protest, but Reyes just cuts him off with an arched eyebrow, and waits for this man he used to know so well to stop trying to hide things from him.

And damn did he know Gil well - memories come back to him unbidden, of heavily-accented ‘good mornings’ slurred with sleep, of sharing a secret world with just one other living soul, in the dead quiet of night when everything is eerily still. The transcendental, floaty feeling that comes with being up too early because you stayed up too late. The crackly peals of laughter over comms before a flight, and exaggerated eyerolls and subtle, worried glances over the damage afterward. The profound silences of shared secrets, and stolen moments, and warm bodies crushed against each other in a dark, half-hidden corner. The serenity of surrender, and the thrill and tension of a well-played hand.

Finally, Gil folds. Slumps back in his chair, still not quite looking at Reyes as he spills. “The _Tempest_ crew, we’re about to head out on a dangerous mission,” he admits. “I mean, _all_ our missions are dangerous, but this one is like, really crazy, over the top even for the Pathfinder dangerous. So… we may not come back.”

Processing Gil’s hoarse words, Reyes doesn't speak until he's sure he can control his expression, walking the razor edge between too hopeful and too disinterested. Both of them always were too good at the poker face even when they weren’t playing cards. “So, you came to say goodbye?”

A frustrated sigh. “I just -- I don’t know? I just needed to settle something between us.” Finally Gil looks up and meets Reyes’s eyes. “When I found out you were here… I didn’t want to leave without knowing.”

Reyes crosses his arms over his chest, accepting that he probably deserves the hurt way Gil is looking at him, but neither the extra protection nor the knowledge make it sting any less.

“Why didn’t you _contact_ me, Reyes?” Gil pleads, and Reyes takes in a sharp breath as he calls up an explanation he was hoping he’d never have to give. “A voice message, an email -- whatever passes for an angaran carrier pigeon, _anything_. Christ, this whole time, I thought you were dead.”

“I wanted to,” Reyes says dejectedly, running a hand through his hair so he won’t have to look at him. “Trust me, I thought about trying to reach you many times. But… getting in touch with the Nexus from out here is not easy.” The Charlatan could, but Reyes Vidal certainly couldn’t, not without drawing a dangerous connection between his two identities - identities which needed to remain very separate if he were to have a spectre of a chance of seeing Gil ever again. He conveniently leaves that part out. “And after a while, I wondered if you’d even want me to. I thought, maybe it would be better to just leave you alone, and let you get over me.” It’s meant as a joke, mostly.

Gil snorts, looking down at the floor again. “Believe me, I tried,” he complains, but he’s smiling fondly.

“...But?” Reyes prompts him.

 _“But…”_ Gil once again meets his eyes. “I’ve never had what we had with anyone before.”

He swallows, throat suddenly dry. It’s getting hard to keep up the facade with all this _honesty_ squeezing at his heart. “And Ryder?”

“I’ve never had what _we_ have with anyone either,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself. “But it’s different. Not worse, just different.”

Reyes wonders which one of them he’s trying to convince.

“You’re not sleeping.”

“It’s not just that,” Gil replies just a little too quickly, and takes so long to elaborate that Reyes figures he’s not going to.

“Well…” Reyes begins, shifting in his seat. “I’m not over us either,” he admits, which regains Gil’s attention. “But greedy as I am, I have no intention of trying to steal you from Ryder. That would be…” he chuckles at the thought. “ _Monumentally_ stupid.”

Gil tilts his head to the side in agreement. Still, Reyes can sense that neither of them are happy with that being the last word on the matter. Since they lost touch all those months ago, he’s become a much fiercer negotiator, and Reyes refuses to walk away empty handed this time. Anything is better than nothing.

“Although…” he hazards. “I’m not opposed to sharing you.”

Gil is taken aback with a startled laugh. “Sharing! -- you can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” Reyes shrugs. ”Ryder’s a good-looking guy, and you clearly care about him, and he’s…” There’s not really words for what Ryder is, so Reyes just makes a vague gesture that he hopes gets his point across.

“Amazing, wonderful, badass, adorable, brilliant --”

“Yes, all of those things,” he chuckles, and they share a smile and a comfortable moment of understanding. Yeah, Ryder is pretty great. And Reyes was entertaining an annoyingly distracting crush on him until a ghost from his past walked through the door.

Or perhaps _he’s_ the ghost in this situation. After all he hardly _lives_ in Tartarus’s private room, it’s more like he just… _haunts_ this place.

“If he’s willing to let you be with both of us, then so am I.”

Gil tries to pin him with a skeptical look, but Reyes knows his offer is genuine and isn't shaken in the slightest. “But if you’re greedy, wouldn’t you want me to yourself?”

Considering his answer, he runs his tongue under his teeth, a salacious gesture that makes Gil unconsciously part his own lips, and Reyes allows a swelling feeling to fill his chest, lets something come back to life that he hasn’t let himself nurture in a long, long time.

“Why be greedy with one guy when I can be greedy with two?”

 

* * *

 

They’re quiet all the way out of Tartarus, all the way up the elevator and through the docks. They’re quiet as they climb the loading ramp of the _Tempest_ , as they walk down the corridor and past the med bay and the galley, and even when they’re in the safety of Scott’s room, he still can’t make himself break the silence. He doesn’t want to start this conversation because he’s pretty sure he knows how it ends, and he doesn’t want it to end.

Instead, Scott just crosses his arms, feeling small with his shoulders hunched and his heart in Gil’s hands.

Gil doesn’t seem to be anything but exasperated with him, however. He sighs loudly. “I’m not breaking up with you, Ryder.”

“Oh.” Scott says, already thrown off balance. He’d been practically bracing himself for a conciliatory offering of Drack’s pictures of guns. Not to mention Liam probably has a playlist curated for just such an occasion. “ _Why_ aren’t you?” he presses, confusion pitching each word higher than the last.

“Look,” Gil starts, gesturing for Scott to sit on the couch with him. “I’m crazy about you. I don’t want to lose what we have. But I’m also kinda crazy about him still?” Gil winces. “And _he_ suggested… maybe I could be with both of you.”

He can’t hide his surprise this time. This conversation is definitely not going the direction he anticipated. “Be with _both_ of us?”

“Yeah, like, be in a relationship or whatever with both of you,” Gil elaborates, eyes shifting around the dimly lit room. “I know it sounds crazy. I’m saying crazy a lot aren’t I --”

Scott cuts him off before he can start rambling and get them off track. “Is that what you want?”

Grey eyes wander, even more intently _not_ looking at Scott as Gil avoids answering. “Yeah?” he finally admits with a helpless shrug. “If it’s alright with you.”

“Okay but Gil --” Scott protests, sitting up a little straighter since apparently he’s going to have to be the one convincing Gil that they’re over. “Clearly there must be something missing from our relationship, if you still want to be with him.”

“No…” Gil draws the word out, like he’s looking for a way out of agreeing. Half an hour with that slippery bastard and he’s already trying to snake his way through the truth in grand Kadaran style. “There’s nothing _missing_ \--”

“Gil. Please just be honest with me.” Scott reaches out, gingerly taking hold of Gil’s elbow and hoping the touch will convince the other man to look at him. “I can tell there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Gil inhales and exhales sharply, courage building in his eyes, and he doesn’t look away this time. “Alright, fine. Reyes had a way of helping me relax so I could sleep.”

“Okay,” Scott responds, trying to withhold judgement. He’d worked out that much on his own.

“He and I did… some pretty kinky shit in the pursuit of that end.”

Finally, the pieces start clicking together. “He would tie you up,” Scott realizes, and saying it out loud feels like some kind of concession, like he’d lost this before it even began.

“Among other things,” Gil confirms, purposefully vague. Scott is not really itching for him to elaborate. He doesn’t really _need_ him to, he has a vivid enough imagination, and he’s seen enough pornographic vids to know how these things tend to play out.  “It was _really_ intense. And as a result we just had this… _connection_. I don’t know how to explain.”

“Well why didn’t you _say_ something to me if that’s what you wanted? I could’ve… _tried,”_ he argues, trying and failing to keep his voice from sounding a bit sulky. Frankly, Scott’s encounters in the Milky Way never really lent themselves to much use of imagination. It’s not that he’s against getting creative in the bedroom, it’s just… well, he’s usually in kind of a hurry.

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” Gil answers, shoulders slumping in either regret or relief. “I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of weirdo. And what _we_ had was too important for me to risk it, I guess.”

Scott hates that he can read in between the lines, sometimes. “But now that Reyes is back in the picture…”

Gil cuts him off with a glare. “You’re _still_ too important,” he scolds mildly. “I can survive without that. Thing is, I don’t really want to,” he confesses. “But it’s up to you. If you’re not on board with it, then I’ll drop it. I won’t --” And then _fuck,_ he hesitates, and Scott can _feel_ how much it hurts him to say what he says next. “I won’t ever see him again.”

Scott is quiet for a while, grappling with the notion that this is his decision to make. He doesn’t have the strength to say it’s over, if Gil won’t say it’s over, but he can’t get that heartbreak in Gil’s voice out of his head, the way he and Reyes just seemed to gravitate to each other with almost magnetic force. “I don’t know. I just don’t think I can compete with someone who came back from the dead for you, Gil.”

“That’s what I’m bloody trying to tell you, is that it doesn’t _have_ to be a competition,” Gil says, frustration boiling over as he scrubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to compare the two of you. I can’t.”

“Because if you did, you’d have to face the fact you like him better than me?”

“No! I don’t! That’s not how it --” Gil shakes his head tightly, then jumps to his feet. “You know what? Somehow I just keep making this worse. Forget it.”

Suddenly, his heart is plummeting into his stomach. “Gil --”

He’s cut off with a hand. “Forget I said anything. I have a mission to prep for and so do you.”

And then he’s out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Extra Crispy, what’s up?”

The pyjak jumps up onto Gil’s shoulder, tiny claws digging in until he manages to center himself, and then Extra Crispy’s whole body vibrates with a tiny bellow, that sounds hungry but could also be inquisitive. Gil doesn’t have any treats, so the creature will have to make do with what’s on his mind.

“Yeah, I really cocked everything up, didn’t I?” he says, still pretending like he’s focused on his engineering consoles. Really, it’s just something to keep him occupied while Ryder is infiltrating the Archon's ship -- a solid eleven out of ten on the Dangerous Things Ryder Has Done scale -- but he’s glad for it. For now, if he listens to the steady thrum of the engine instead of the crackling, erratic transmissions from the strike team, he can pretend that the disagreement he and Ryder had beforehand is the biggest of their worries. It’s the only worry he can really do anything about.

Another adorable _honk_ from the pyjak, and again, he’s probably just begging for food, but the little dude always sounds like he’s _very concerned_ anyway and so Gil doesn’t mind projecting.

“Yeah, yeah…” Gil says, comforting Extra Crispy with a gentle scritch. “I’m gonna talk to him when he gets back. Probably.”

There’s a chirp from the comms, and then Suvi’s voice filters in overhead. “Gil, the Pathfinder wants to speak to you on secure line two.”

“On it,” he says to the room, and quickly brings up the line on his omni-tool. He loses his pyjak free-rider in the commotion, the tiny creature trilling as it finds a tall shelf to observe from. “Gil here.”

“Hey, I just need to tell you something.”

Ryder’s voice is strained and far away, the channel flooded with white noise, and so it’s hard to tell, but he sounds… scared. “Okay…?” Gil replies.

“I just want you to be happy.”

Gil looks over at Extra Crispy as if the space monkey can translate what Ryder is saying. Or more specifically _why_ he’s saying it.  “I ...want you to be happy ...too?” he manages. He has a very bad feeling about this. 

“I know, but I just want you to do what’s going to make you happy. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

There must be teammates listening in. Ryder’s not usually so vague about how he words things. “I think so? But can’t we talk about that later?”

“I hope so... I love you, Gil.”

Suddenly Gil’s heart is in his throat. Ryder loving him is great and all, but what Ryder _isn’t_ saying seems to be a hell of a lot more important than what he _is_ saying, and Gil is paralyzed by needing to know, but very much not wanting to. Why _now?_ “Scott,” he croaks.

“Alright SAM, do it.” And then nothing but static.

“Scott, wait --” Gil calls out, punching furiously at his omni-tool to make sure he’s still connected, but no one answers. “Scott? SCOTT!” Extra Crispy scurries away, trumpeting nervously as Gil shouts into his arm. “SAM, what’s happening???!”

No answer.

Gil swears and starts to run, dashing down the catwalk towards the bridge and _damn_ these doors, why can’t they open faster when someone runs at them for fuck’s sake? He spends the rest of the sprint down the corridor visualizing what it would be like to tear those doors apart, maybe he can work out some anger by teaching them a lesson about getting in his way when everything isn’t going _tits up._ He storms onto the bridge, and when Suvi turns and sees him, her face goes from fretful to stricken.

“The _fuck_ is going on down there?!” he barks. He’s not supposed to be up here during a mission, but right now he just doesn’t bloody care.

 _“Attempting to resuscitate.”_ SAM states calmly -- too calmly -- over their comms.

“Resusci -- what happened?!”

Suvi approaches carefully, her hands reaching toward him in a placating gesture. “Gil, it’s gonna be okay --”

_“Attempting to resuscitate.”_

“The fuck it is!” Gil cries at her. “Why is SAM having to give mouth to mouth to my boyfriend?!”

“Just hold on.”

“Hold on?! Like hell I’m gonna --”

 _“Vital signs detected,”_ SAM interrupts. _“The Pathfinder has been revived successfully.”_

“Oh, thank God.” Suvi crumples in relief, eyes squeezing shut as her whole body relaxes.

Gil holds her upright by the shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her. “Suvi. _Please.”_

She nods, lets out a shaky breath. “There was some kind of trap. In order to get him out of it, SAM had to stop his heart, and start it again.”

He doesn’t even want to process what she’s saying. Scott died. Scott called him to say he loved him, that he didn’t mind if Gil slept with other people, and then _died_. Gil collapses against the door behind him. “Bloody fucking hell,” he wheezes in between labored breaths.

“I know. Come here,” Suvi offers, and pulls him into a tight, and much needed hug.

 

* * *

 

 

He watches from a discreet corner the whole time Lexi is fussing over Scott, not even bothering to pull him into her lab but scanning him right there in the middle of the cargo bay. Scott keeps insisting he’s fine; his heart is working overtime now just to be convincing it would seem, and Gil just watches and worries and feels his own heart leap every time Scott steals a glance in his direction.

When Scott makes his way towards his quarters, Gil stalks from up above, his own chest hammering as he slides down the ladder just in time to pin Scott against the galley door. He kisses him, hard, and Scott kisses back without hesitation, and Gil finds himself holding his breath just to hear Scott breathe against him, grabbing onto him too tight just to make the breath come faster. But just as Scott begins to melt into it he pulls away, shoving lightly at the other man.

“You think you can compete _now_ , you utter bastard?!” Gil gripes at him, and Scott dissolves into a fit of nervous snickering. Usually, Gil would find it funny too, but right now he is the furthest thing from laughing. _“How could you do that to me?”_

That seems to sober him, brows pinching together as he stills, eyes shimmering with contrition. “Hey, I’m the one that _died_ , okay?” Scott laughs weakly. “You think I _wanted_ to? I didn't have a choice, but I didn’t want to go without saying… goodbye....”

This man -- _this man._ How dare he -- with his infuriating blue eyes and his stupid, puppy-like expressions. His stupid daredevil stunts and his stupid messiah-like ability to return from the dead. His stupid science-fiction references and his stupid science-factual, badass, literally world changing powers. His big heart and his sexy voice and his ridiculous insecurities and his stupid, selfless, snarky, thoughtful, giving, honest, perfect ... **_self_**. How dare he?

How _dare_ he.

Gil can’t bear even the small distance between them anymore, and he collapses into Ryder, their weights settling against the galley door as they just wrap around each other tight. Not that Gil has ever really had one, but he thinks holding onto Scott might feel like home.

“I’m not happy,” Gil complains, muffled by Scott’s underarmor.

A shaky nod. “I know,” comes the muted reply.

 _“You dying_ doesn’t make me happy,” he scolds.

“Okay,” Scott soothes, and rubs his hand up and down Gil’s back. His anxiety finally starts to settle, and he lets go of some of the tension and settles further into Scott’s arms. Hopefully no one is going to want food any time soon.

“...You loving me _does_ make me happy,” he admits with a sulk.

“Okay. Me too.”

“I would say it back but I'm not done being angry with you yet.”

Gil can feel Scott’s mouth grow into smile against his shoulder. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Perhaps Scott should have anticipated that Reyes would be just as careful with his lovers as he is with his enemies. Perhaps he would have, if he had considered that careful does not always mean _kind_.

The Charlatan is so precise in everything that he does, from inception to execution. He’s always thinking two steps and three dimensions ahead of his opponent, or in this case, the two other men who are with him in his bed. Depending on what suits his purpose, he’s just as likely to quote one of the great Earth philosophers as he is to make a disarmingly crude pun. He can conjure, at a moment’s notice, a very truthful-sounding statement that is somehow devoid of any substantial truth, or a lie that is so obviously a lie that you’d think he was bad at lying. Reyes doesn’t operate by brute force, ever, but through meticulous unraveling, the decanting and savoring of a sophisticated bouquet, a rending asunder by a thousand paradoxes, and _petite mort_ by a thousand cuts.

But Scott is surprised -- awed really -- as he watches Reyes bind Gil, instructing him with quiet, confident words. Reminding him to relax, to breathe as he prepares the “scene”: Gil kneeling on the bed with his hands tied behind his back and a soft black blindfold over his eyes. And stark naked besides, his cock already twitching just from being on display.

Task complete, Reyes looks him over one final time, affectionately stroking the nape of Gil’s neck as he finally speaks to Scott. “I admit, I’ve never done this with someone watching.”

Scott wouldn’t have guessed that. He looks so much in his element, but really, when does Reyes not? “Am I _just_ watching?”

He won’t mind either way, he thinks, eyes roaming over the handsome, half-naked Reyes, his steady hands, and his defined muscles, and his trousers riding low on his hips. Yes, Scott is definitely okay with just watching.

Reyes doesn’t look at him as he answers, gaze fixed on Gil’s profile, searchingly, as if he can see into his soul even when he can’t see his eyes. He sets a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over Gil’s ears with the same care he might place the garnish on a cocktail. “There might be some opportunities for… audience participation,” he says with a thoughtful smile. “But you’ll have to follow my rules.”

“What are your rules?”

“You don’t touch him, or talk to him, unless I say so.”

There’s no room for negotiation in his tone, and Scott shivers, wondering just what he’s getting himself into, and for not the first or second time. “I see.”

Reyes spares him a glance, then goes back to testing various bindings and knots. “It’s not a possessive thing; he and I have talked about this. What works, what doesn’t work, what his limits are... It’s my job to make sure those limits don't get crossed.”

“That sounds… reasonable,” Scott agrees.

“Good. Now come kneel here in front of him. You can touch him -- only touch -- anywhere but his cock. Okay?”

“Yes _sir,”_ Scott answers in a surly tone he assumes he’s only getting away with because he’s not the center of attention in this demonstration. But he does as Reyes says, enthusiastically, starting with feather-light touches over Gil’s collarbone and his chest. Scott can remember when all of this was forbidden skin, only something he got to seldom see and never touch. They’ve come a long way since, and Scott wouldn’t trade any moment of that journey -- even the rocky parts -- for anything.

Because now, relegated to the rather simple role of just touching, he gets to experience Gil in a new way: what it’s like to be enraptured by his face, the way his breath hitches, the way his brows knit together as he tries to make sense of all the different sensations. Without being able to see or hear, Gil is relegated to the complementary role of just _feeling_ , and Scott thinks he’s finally starting to see a glimpse of how Reyes gets Gil to turn off his overactive brain.

Meanwhile, Reyes is behind, fingering Gil open with slick fingers, practiced and unhurried, and soon Gil’s mouth is hung open in desperate pleasure, his lips almost as red as his hair.

“God I want to kiss him,” Scott murmurs out loud before he can stop himself, he’s so drunk on the sight of Gil being slowly stripped of his defenses.

Reyes just chuckles at him, a little bit evil and a bit understanding, too. In the corner of Scott’s eye, his silky brown skin shimmers with copper undertones in the dim, bedroom light.  “Not yet.”

Faking a put-out sigh, Scott continues letting his hands wander, over the pulse points in his neck and then down to the ticklish place where groin meets hip that he knows will make Gil shiver. “I mean, I knew you were gonna be mean...”

“Yes, and you’re here to learn, and to help,” Reyes reminds him.

“Okay, fine, but what about _me?_ Why do _I_ have to suffer?” Scott grouses.

A click of a tongue has Scott looking up in time to see Reyes roll his eyes fondly. “Alright then, come here,” he beckons, and _deigns_ to lean over Gil’s shoulder so Scott can kiss _him_ instead.

“Okay,” Scott chuckles, and presses himself against Gil’s bronze skin to comply, and Reyes kisses him deeply, pulling his head closer with his free hand so that Gil is sandwiched in between them as Reyes’s tongue curls between their mouths.

“Oh shit,” Gil whispers reverently as he realizes what’s happening. But in the next moment, Reyes responds by pulling his hand out, which rips a regretful sound out of Gil’s throat, and smacking him hard on the ass.

“He’s not allowed to talk,” Reyes explains, smiling against Scott’s quizzical lips.

“Yeah. Good luck with _that,”_ Scott teases, and goes in for another kiss, pressing against Gil’s thigh so he can feel Scott’s cock is hard and hardening further. But though he makes some pretty helpless noises, Gil doesn’t dare say anything else.

Reyes pulls at Scott’s bottom lip with his teeth and then pins him with a look, gold eyes going predator-sharp. “Take off your clothes.”

A part of Scott bristles, not used to being the one taking orders, not for a long time now. But that hard gaze in Reyes’s eyes reminds him of where he stands. _My rules_ , Reyes had said, and so Scott glares back only a tiny bit as he leans back and starts to strip.

“Ah ah…” Reyes interrupts. “Take them off so he can _feel_ you take them off.”

“Oh…” Scott presses up against Gil and continues to peel off his shirt, slow and teasing and just a little pink with self consciousness. “This probably looks kinda weird.”

“Don’t worry about how it looks. Worry about how it feels.”

Reyes, for his part, isn’t even watching the show he’s asked Scott to put on, still focused on the reaction he gets when he scissors Gil open around three fingers and tugs lightly at his balls.

“Right.” Scott slowly drags his boxers off next, teasing Gil’s thigh with the band of elastic until they’re tight around his own knees. His heavy cock bounces against the soft hairs of Gil’s leg, and they both shudder. Gil is beautiful like this, expression stormy with want, his muscles tensing under his skin like the volatile clouds of one of the Great Giants, his neglected cock stiff and swollen into an angry red.

“Good,” Reyes praises. “Now… touch yourself. So that he can feel.”

“Oh that's _mean,”_ Scott grins, voice reduced to a dark growl in his arousal. _“_ I love it.”

“I knew I liked you.”

Scott rubs the glistening head of his cock against Gil’s waist, and then moves his hand in purposeful strokes, holding Gil’s ass open wider for Reyes with his other hand.

“Oh fuck, Scott,” Gil rasps, and earns three swats for it from Reyes. He whines, but he’s grinning defiantly as Scott continues to move his knuckles over Gil’s hip. “I regret nothing.”

 _“You will.”_ This time Reyes pulls him back by the hair, yanks one side of the headphones to the side to clamp down on Gil’s ear with his teeth until he yelps.

It gives him a good view of Scott, where he’s still beating off and watching the other two men with a bemused expression. With his teeth still tugging at Gil’s reddening ear, Reyes looks over Scott appreciatively with something akin to a challenge in his eyes and Scott flushes, collapsing in on himself a little as he lets the dark promises in that gaze crash over him and pull him under like a wave.

Brow coming to rest on Gil’s shoulder, he doesn’t have the will to protest when that sympathetic laugh returns. _“Now_ you can kiss him,” Reyes allows, then adds, “but not on the mouth.”

Scott lets out a heavy sigh of relief and then practically dives mouth first into Gil’s neck, taking in the smell and the taste of him as he makes a trail of sloppy kisses toward those forbidden lips. Gil leans into each one desperately, stubble scratching at Scott’s cheek.

Then, Gil tenses with a sudden shout, and Scott recognizes the gorgeous reaction from experience as Reyes pressing hard against Gil’s prostate.

“Aha!” Reyes exclaims, a bit like a mad scientist bringing some devious creation to life. It’s kind of endearing, really, and as he watches Reyes hone in on that spot inside Gil, with adorable focus and to tremendous effect, Scott can imagine those fingers inside his own body. Stretching, invading, pressing just right and with that he comes hard, a loud sigh vibrating into Gil's skin as he ejaculates in streaks all over his side.

After watching this unfold, Reyes scoops up some of Scott’s come with a finger, and shoves the finger into Gil’s open mouth. He moans at the taste, taking to sucking it immediately in a way that makes Scott want to come all over again. And when Gil pulls off the finger with a pop, he’s smiling bright and satisfied, even though he’s still hard and untouched. “God, you two are gonna kill me at this rate.”

Then flinches, expecting a swat that doesn’t come. Reyes just pulls his fingers out with ease and then sighs, more weary than impatient. “I’m running out of ways to punish him.”

“Yeah,” Scott answers in a breathless laugh, still recovering from his orgasm. “The spanking doesn’t really seem to be working.”

“He likes it too much,” Reyes concurs, clapping Gil hard and loud on the ass to demonstrate. Gil just moans like he's pleased with himself for something and throws his head back.

“Didn’t bring your riding crop to Andromeda?”

“Heh, as if I need such things,” Reyes scoffs, eyes glinting with smugness and danger. “Besides, he would probably like _that_ even more.”

Scott ponders this for a moment as he watches Reyes ghost fingers over Gil’s lips and then dig his nails into Gil’s throat. Watches Gil lurch into the touch, as if frustrated that the pressure isn’t enough to cut off his air. “So the worst punishment… would be for us to do nothing. Well not… _nothing_ …”

Gold eyes slide over to him from under dark lashes. “What did you have in mind?”

“What if we just… ignored him for a bit? I could…” he regards Reyes’s erection with a significant look where it is making a tent in his trousers. “...suck you off in the meantime?” he tries.

Reyes actually looks impressed. “I like the way you think, Ryder,” he says, and runs his tongue under his teeth, to which Scott responds with a slightly sheepish smile. Then Reyes yanks the headphones down to Gil’s neck to get his still flinching attention. “You’ve been very disobedient.”

“Mmh.” Gil’s lips scrunch together, and his eyes would probably look rebellious if they weren’t hidden with black satin.

“We have decided on your punishment,” Reyes tells him.

 _“We?!”_ Gil squeaks _._

Reyes grabs him by the chin, shaking him just a little, voice hard but still controlled. _“We_ have decided to have some fun without you. Ryder has so generously offered to let me fuck his mouth. Your _punishment_ is that you don’t get to watch.”

“Fuuuck,” Gil says through gritted teeth.

“I could get used to having an accomplice,” Reyes says to Scott, twisting over to settle with his back against Gil’s chest as the redhead continues to mutter _‘fuck fuck fuck’_ over and over, with varying degrees of frustration and arousal and amusement. 

“This _is_ more fun than I expected,” Scott agrees, and tosses his boxers to Reyes like some kind of victor’s laurel.

“Traitor,” Gil spits at him playfully.

“Your boyfriend’s mouth is going to _pay_ for your words,” Reyes warns sternly, but he’s still smiling deviously where Gil can’t see. He gets himself comfortable against Gil’s body, undoing his fly as Scott straddles his outstretched legs. They lock eyes for a quiet moment, but there’s something unexpectedly soft in Reyes’s gaze, so Scott focuses instead on the task of freeing Reyes’s cock. It’s still impressive up close, his foreskin half-retracted with his arousal to reveal the rosy, almost purple head underneath.

Scott pushes the foreskin back with his lips, teases only a little, and then swallows Reyes down. Not all the way, just enough to show him that he’s not inexperienced, just fast enough to show him that he’s not afraid. When he locks eyes with Reyes again, that softness is gone, replaced by a molten lust that would make Scott grin viciously if his mouth weren’t full. He just does his best to convey it with his sky blue eyes, and from what he’s been told, his eyes are quite riveting when he’s on his knees.

“Oh _shit_ that’s good,” Reyes whispers, the slightest tremor in his voice, and Scott pulls off with a satisfied pop.

“Let’s try for mind-blowing,” he suggests with all of his _boldly go_ , work hard-play hard, Pathfinder confidence and then goes right back at it.

Reyes laughs, smiling down at him with a more open expression than Scott has ever seen, no longer vulnerable but intensely genuine. He seems to relax into it, bringing his fingers up to brush at Scott’s ear. But then Scott squeezes with an upward stroke of his hand and sucks _hard_ and that gentle touch becomes a fist holding on to him for dear life by the hair.

“Fuck,” Reyes bites out. “He’s very good at this,” he says to Gil, who’s just listening intently and chewing on his lip. Reyes keeps Gil informed through sparse commentary and some direction for Scott, with one hand heavy in Scott's hair and one squeezing Gil’s thigh.

Before long, Reyes pushes Scott down onto him, more a strong suggestion than a demand that he take him all the way in. “You hear that?” he taunts Gil. “That's the sound of the Pathfinder choking on my cock.” Scott looks up at him, confused, because he’s really not choking _quite yet_ , and Reyes winks conspiratorially.

Ah, the benefit of narrating for an audio-only audience is you can exaggerate things. Still, Scott is a Ryder after all, and they’ve never backed down from a challenge in several generations, so he’s duty bound at this point to make Reyes into an honest man. Or something like that.

A string of curses, and then Reyes amends breathlessly: “Okay, I lied. _That_ is the sound of the Pathfinder choking on my cock.”

Scott just laughs around him, and goes back to his usual repertoire of tricks, a twist here, a swipe of tongue there, until Reyes is panting heavy above him and tapping his head with a light warning.

“Fuck, Ryder, I’m gonna come -- I’m -- fuck!” Reyes’s voice is hoarse as he throws his head back and his hips jut forward as he comes, and Scott catches most of it on his tongue before he swallows it all down.

Taking in the beautiful sight of Reyes catching his breath, Scott brushes his used lips along the now oversensitive head, just to be a tease, just to see Reyes shudder. He lets his eyes leave Reyes’s face only to look at Gil behind him, and the only reason why Gil doesn’t look more wrecked than Reyes is because Scott can’t see his eyes.

After a minute or so of recovery, Reyes gets up and looms in front of Gil, growling into his ear as he squeezes at his neck. “You should see him,” he says darkly. “He has such gorgeous lips, doesn’t he? They looked especially magnificent wrapped around my cock. Nothing to say now? Hmm?”

Flushing at his words, Scott lifts back up to his knees as he watches Gil struggle to keep his mouth shut. He manages, but it seems to be a close thing.

“How would you like to taste my come on his lips?” Reyes offers, and beckons Scott forward with his fingers. Gil’s guttural moan is lost as Scott rushes to him and finally -- _finally_ \-- they kiss. Gil chases the taste with a force that bruises Scott’s lips, but he’s just as desperate, and the feel of Gil’s teeth nibbling on his tongue has him hard again and aching.

Finally he has to come up for air. “What now?”

Reyes takes his time answering, working out some stiffness in his neck. “You want to fuck him?” he says, almost blandly.

Oh God yes. “Uh, sure -- you don't --”

“Oh I do, believe me,” Reyes assures him. “But you took such good care of me, you deserve something in return.”

It isn’t until they get situated, with Scott behind Gil and Reyes in front this time, with the lube already dripping into Scott’s hand, that he reveals what the catch is.

“He doesn't come until I say,” Reyes warns. “I tell you to stop, you stop, understand?”

He is completely unaffected by the look that Scott gives him. “Oh _I see_ how it is,” he laughs. “You're so _mean.”_

“Yes, truly. The _cruelest,”_ Reyes agrees in a dry, haughty tone befitting of his regal name.

“Alright, I'm game,” Scott agrees with a sigh, and goes back to slicking up his cock.

With all the prep from earlier Scott could slide in easily, but he takes his time anyway, slowly filling Gil up, his eyes and ears drinking in his reaction inch by inch, his arms wrapped around him tight. He pulls Gil’s head back for another kiss, just to feel him lose the ability to kiss back as Scott fucks him at an increasing pace. Reyes handles Gil’s cock roughly and growls the occasional dirty encouragement at the two of them when he’s not sucking bruises onto Gil’s neck.

Reyes draws it out until some sign tells him Gil is about to come -- that’s a skill to ask about later -- and then orders Scott to stop, pulling his own hands away. In the stillness that follows, all Gil can manage is a wordless whine of protest.

Scott is sweating from the effort of holding still, eyes screwed tightly shut as Gil trembles in his arms, the bindings around his wrists pulled taut. Reyes surveys this with a self-satisfied, wicked chuckle but Scott is too caught up in the feel of Gil squeezing desperately around him to feel particularly violent about it.

It’s been long minutes since Gil spoke a word. It’s impressive really, how he’s just surrendered to them, seemingly content in the darkness behind his blindfold and the uncertainty of when exactly he’ll be allowed to find release, just drifting on sensations and sounds and suddenly Scott can see the appeal. It must be grounding. It must be the most exhilarating freefall descent.

“Alright. Again,” Reyes orders, and the torment begins once more. He goes back to stroking both his and Gil’s cock in one hand and twisting a nipple in the other, and Scott hates himself just a tiny bit for enjoying the sound that comes out of Gil’s throat, something pained and broken and desperate for more.

“Fuck him harder,” Reyes goads him. “Put a hand on his throat, he likes that.”

Scott takes that suggestion, squeezing at Gil’s neck until he can feel his pulse, and thrusts faster. It’s building now, his whole skin is on fire with the warmth of Gil’s body and that sweet friction around his cock, and he’s close, so close to the edge that he can’t even understand what Reyes is saying anymore.

Then suddenly Reyes leans over and yanks him up by the hair, scowling at him as Scott pants and struggles and tries to school his features into something that doesn’t look quite so alarmed. “I said, _stop,”_ Reyes taunts in that quiet, terrifying voice that only the most fearless men know how to use.

Unfortunately for him, Scott just happens to really… _really_ like Reyes’s voice, and he just happens to really, _really_ like being talked to like that, and so he really, _really_ does just come right then and there without another single thrust. He just _comes_ , his cock twitching powerfully inside Gil as a conflicted moan is torn out of his throat. It’s not quite on purpose, but he gives Reyes a defiant glare anyway under heavily hooded eyes. Hangs his mouth open in invitation or maybe challenge, those lips that Reyes apparently likes so much.

Reyes lets him think he’s won for a moment, just regarding him with an unreadable look before pushing up off the bed without a word. Scott doesn’t think too much of it, too come-drunk to focus on anything but just holding onto Gil and breathing.

His cock has barely slipped out out of Gil when two arms grab onto him and throw him flat on his back. He looks up with wide eyes as Reyes bends over him, taking his mouth with a burning and unyielding kiss. Then once Scott has been left dazed, Reyes climbs back up on the bed and over to Gil. He quickly unties his bonds and with surprising strength, manhandles him until he’s on all fours, and face to face with Scott beneath him.

Gil doesn't get a moment to process before Reyes is burying himself in one long, smooth push and taking up a punishing pace. Gil punctuates each thrust with a noise he doesn’t seem capable of controlling. But he’s pushing back into every stroke, wordlessly asking for more, _more._

Meanwhile Scott is finding it a struggle to look away from Reyes’s piercing gold eyes, the hard way they’re looking at him as if somehow he’s earned his current predicament. “So this is -- mmh -- my punishment, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Reyes answers, smug but breathless all the same. _“Is_ it? You at least get to watch.”

And watching Gil get fucked _is_ something of a gift. Scott pushes the blindfold up onto Gil’s forehead, studying those cloudy grey eyes through the haze of his own afterglow. He wants -- _needs_ to see him. _All_ of him.

“S-Scott,” Gil croaks, as he lifts up to pepper kisses all over Gil’s face, before finally meeting his mouth in another kiss, shoving his tongue in as Reyes quietly swears and thrusts harder on the other end.  Then Scott pulls back to take in the sight of him again, the way he looks devastated by pleasure, a high flush on his cheeks and his eyes glazed over, but soon Gil goes shy on him, hiding his face in Scott’s neck as he moans.

“You want to come for us, babe?” Reyes’s voice is strained but gentler than Scott is used to, in contrast to the sharp slapping of skin against skin. Gil makes... a _noise --_ it’s getting more difficult to interpret what he means, but it sounds a bit like, _you’ve fucked the memory of every other orgasm I’ve ever had out of my head so I’m not actually sure,_ do _I want to?!_

Scott reaches down to run his palm up the length of Gil’s dripping cock. “Yeah, sweetheart, come for us, come on --”

It only takes a few tugs on Gil’s cock before it hits him, practically sobbing as he comes and comes and cries out Reyes’ name and _comes,_ leaving a mess all over Scott’s stomach, and Reyes shouts and follows right behind him over the edge. The bed shakes with it as he fucks Gil through both their orgasms with the forceful thrusts of a man who has lost all restraint. Scott just lays there beneath them, eyes wide in bewilderment, but he’s pretty sure he could go again with fairly minimal effort after seeing that.

 

A hasty cleanup, and then they settle under the sheets, with Gil curled tight into Scott’s chest, legs tangled together while Reyes spoons him from behind. Scott presses a kiss into his auburn hair, and delights in the sleepy moan he feels against his skin.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Scott murmurs to him, but Gil just melts into him further and lets slip another satisfied hum.

It isn’t long before he falls asleep, leaving Scott and Reyes to lay there looking at each other in the dim light.  “Wow, he is _out,”_ Scott laughs quietly.

Reyes’s mouth curls into a smile. “It won’t last long. I went easy on him this time.”

 _“That was going easy?”_ Scott whispers, his brows raising. “Shit, how much of that can he take?”

Reyes beams with pride, answering with a waggle of his own brows. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Looking back down at the man in between them, Scott runs his hand over as much of Gil’s skin as he can reach, as if somehow that will reveal all the secrets hidden within. He _does_ want to find out; he wants to know Gil as completely as it is possible to know a person. “I had no idea,” he says, lost in wonder.

Reyes hums quietly. Relaxes further into the mattress as he looks at Gil and then Scott with heavy lidded eyes. All that veneer of smugness and self-satisfaction is gone, stripped back to reveal a Reyes that is worn out in the best of ways, the perfect picture of a mortal man with his guard down.

Scott wonders how often Reyes feels safe enough to let himself feel that way. On Kadara, probably not often.

“I’m glad we did this,” he confesses. There’s something about moments like these -- naked, sleepy moments in the stillness of night -- that make the truth seem less intimidating. “I’m… I’m glad he has you.”

 _Jaal would be proud,_ Gil might say, if he were conscious.

“Good,” Reyes replies, not bothering to keep his eyes open. “Both of you are always welcome here. Any time you’re in Kadara Port.”

Scott’s heart does something weird inside his chest at that. _Both_ of them? “Wow, that’s…”

“Too much?” Reyes asks, opening his eyes again to read Scott’s reaction.

“No, it’s just… how can you be so okay with this? It’s so easy for you.”

A shrug as Reyes relaxes again. “I like him, I like you, we just had an amazing time together… what’s difficult about that?”

“Right. _So_ simple,” Scott says, rolling his eyes.

Reyes shifts a little closer to him. “And don’t lie, you like me a little bit, too,” he teases.

“...Maybe.” Scott can’t help but smile even though he’s trying to be difficult to read.

 _“Mmhm,”_ comes Reyes’s doubtful reply, his amber eyes little more than slits now, as sleep begins to take him, too.

Scott thinks about it for a few moments, hand still wondering absently over soft bronze skin. He had been drawn to Reyes immediately, but still doesn’t quite know what to make of him. He doesn’t know how to reconcile the man in front of him with the Charlatan, doesn’t understand how someone can do such heartless things at times, and other times wear their heart so brazenly on their sleeve. Doesn’t know if he will ever be able to see Reyes the way Gil sees him, but he wants to.

He _wants_ to.

 “...I like the way you are with him,” he admits at last.

Rewarding him with another sleepy half-smile, Reyes reaches over and strokes Scott’s hair, a soft brush of fingers, like when he had laughed with his cock in Scott’s mouth. “That’s a start,” he says, and Scott falls asleep trying to etch into his memory the earnestness he’d heard in that voice.

 


End file.
